


Mistaken Identity

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.Sometimes it takes being with the wrong person to see the right one.
Relationships: Jack Malone/Samantha Spade, Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor, Martin Fitzgerald/Samantha Spade
Kudos: 4





	Mistaken Identity

She's still not certain why she agreed to do this. She's grown used to being alone, used to not dating. And yet, here she is, trying desperately to find something to wear that doesn't scream FBI agent.

As if the lack of decent date clothing isn't bad enough, she's also breaking the only rule she ever set for herself. Never date a coworker. She seems to be fond of breaking that rule. Granted, she didn't exactly date Jack. No, she slept with him, repeatedly, fell madly in love with him, and fantasized about a life she knew she couldn't have with him. But she didn't date him.

She settles on the blue blouse, thinking it looks slightly demure, but at the same time, provocative. Not that she remembers how to be provocative, or that she even wants to come across as such. Still, it seems fitting. Jack loved her in blue. For the tenth time tonight, she's has to remind herself, she's not meeting Jack.

She's meeting Martin. Just dinner, nothing more. She's not even sure she wants more. In truth, all she really wants is a night out, something to occupy her thoughts. Dressed, she glances in the mirror one final time before heading to her car.

~*~

The clock on the nightstand glows angry red-orange, reminding him he's running late. Stifling a curse, he settles on the grey shirt, feeling uncomfortable without a tie. He's not used to dressing casually.

Grabbing his keys from the dresser, he rushes out the door, practically knocking down his elderly neighbor, her name escaping him at the moment. He's not surprised he doesn't remember, even though he should know, he's trained to recall these things. But now, his life consists of work, and that means he's never here.

He decides on the subway, wanting to give himself an excuse to ask Sam for a ride home. Not that he'll try anything, but he won't refuse her either. He knows this is probably a bad idea. He's perceptive enough to realize there was something between her and Jack. And while he isn't sure if it's over, he's pretty sure she would have turned him down if it wasn't.

So, against his better judgment, he'd asked her out. He doesn't know if he did it for the company, or the pretty blonde behind the company. Not that it really matters. Even if nothing happens between them, he could use the friend. He's spent too many nights on his own since moving to New York.

~*~

She waits patiently at the bar, her attention focused on the doors. Of course he's late, she doesn't think men understand the concept of 'on time'. Jack was always late, always kept her waiting. And she always waited. She would have waited an eternity for him if he'd asked her. Martin on the other hand, Martin she gives five minutes, after that, she's leaving.

Two minutes pass before the door slams open, admitting a very flustered Martin. She has to admit, he is kinda cute when he's out of breath. Smiling, she waves him over, grabbing her drink from off the bar.

"You're late," she comments.

"Sorry," he apologizes.

"That's alright. It's only one strike," she replies.

"Let me guess, three and I'm out," he retorts.

She doesn't answer, instead choosing to smile mysteriously before turning her back and walking towards their table.

"This place is nice, you come here a lot?" he asks, settling in across from her.

"Yeah, I used to come here all the time with….a friend," she explains, her cheeks flushing at the near admission.

"I see," Martin replies, deciding not to question her hesitation.

He's not sure what he was expecting, but this isn't it. He finds himself preoccupied, long periods of awkward silence stretching between them. He's beginning to think maybe this was a really bad idea.

"So, um, you want to share a bottle of wine or something?" he asks, closing his menu.

"Sure….," she trails off, her eyes locking on a table across the room.

Turning, Martin immediately recognizes the figure sitting at the table. Jack. Not just Jack. Jack and his wife. Sighing, he turns back to Samantha, offering her a sympathetic smile.

"You want to get out of here?" he asks.

"What? Oh, um, no, you know what, I think we should stay," she tells him, never once taking her eyes off their boss.

The really bad idea has now turned into a terrible idea. He wants to argue with her, demand they leave, but knows she won't, not while Jack's here. He watches her raise her hand to wave, and realizes Jack's seen them. He twists, offering the older man a nod.

"So about that wine," Sam draws his attention.

"Okay," he replies, noting the smile that has suddenly plastered itself to her face.

~*~

The remainder of the meal passes in awkward chatter. He's starting to feel like he's the lead in some bizarre play, acting out a part he never got a chance to rehearse. Samantha seems to be having a good time, laughing at all his jokes, laughing during moments of silence, laughing at some of his serious comments. Two hours and the only thing he's learnt about her, is that she likes to laugh.

He pays the bills, the action again causing Sam to laugh. He nods, thinking maybe she drank too much of the wine. Then again, they'd shared the bottle, and with the exception of a slight buzz, he feels fine.

"So, Martin, you want to get out of here, go someplace, a little more, quiet," she whispers, or at least, attempts to. It comes out more of a command, her voice carrying through the restaurant.

He nods his acceptance, leading her from their table and out onto the street. She clings to him, practically draping herself on his arm. Suddenly he's glad he took the subway and doesn't have a car to worry about.

"Are you alright to drive?" he asks, crossing the street to where her car is parked.

"Fine, you need a lift?" she asks.

"Sure," he replies.

He doesn't bother opening the door for her, rationalizing that she's a federal agent and probably wouldn't want the chivalry. She seems slightly put out, but doesn't comment. He climbs in the passenger side, waiting patiently for her to start the car.

"I guess you need directions?" he asks, wondering why they're still parked.

"You know, I don't think I'm alright to drive after all. You mind if we just sit here for a few minutes?" she asks.

"No, that's fine," he replies.

He turns to stare out the passenger side window, not noticing Sam's movement until she's practically on top of him.

"What are….." he's cut off as her lips meet his.

He brings his hands to her cheeks, pulling her further against him. He wants to protest, but doesn't seem able to form the words. Soft, wet lips blend into his, her tongue darting into his mouth.

The kiss continues, long past the point of reason. He's beginning to get dizzy from lack of oxygen. His eyes remain firmly closed, his body completely lost in the sensation. He moans, low and harsh, the sound vibrating through both their bodies.

"Oh god, Jack!" she cries.

"Oh yes, Danny!" he echoes.

Silence once again invades the space between them.

Slowly she pushes off him, arranging her skirt where it's ridden up her leg. He doesn't make eye contact, instead choosing to stare at his lap, absently playing with a loose thread on his pants.

"Um, did you just call me Danny?" she asks.

"You called me Jack," he retorts, ignoring her question.

"I'm sorry, I….. Danny?" she continues, obviously expecting some sort of reply.

"This was obviously a big mistake. I think maybe I'll grab a cab. Maybe we should just forget about all this," he replies, still avoiding the question. The last thing he wants to do is explain something he himself doesn't understand.

Not waiting for her response, he opens the door, stepping out onto the street. He doesn't turn back, not wanting to see the question in her eyes.

~*~

She watches him leave, feeling guilty for using him. Feeling even worse for hearing something she's pretty sure she should have never heard. Danny. She's not sure what to make of it. She knew they were close, just not –that- close.

A knock on her window draws her attention. As if the night couldn't get any worse, Jack. She rolls down her window, trying her best to not look sheepish.

"Yes?" she asks, like his presence was completely expected.

"You want to tell me what the hell was going on in there?" he demands.

If she's not mistaken, she thinks she hears a hint of jealousy in his voice. The thought makes her smile.

"What? I'm not allowed to date?" she questions, an innocent expression forming on her features.

"Knock it off Sam," he warns.

"Sorry, I just. I don't know what I was doing. Why are you here? Where's Marie?" she asks.

"She went home," he answers, his eyes suddenly filling with sadness. The sight takes her breath away.

"Oh," is all she can come up with.

He nods, as though he didn't expect another answer. Moving away from the window, he crosses in front of the car, opening her passenger side door and climbing in.

She doesn't question what he's doing, merely starts the car and pulls away from the curb. She knows there's something he's not saying, but doesn't push. He'll tell her, he always does.

No words are spoken as she drives through the city. She's not even certain where she's taking him, obviously not home. There's relatively little traffic at this hour, something she's glad for. She's too preoccupied with the man next to her to concentrate on driving.

She ends up in China Town, though for the life of her she can't remember how. She feels as though she's caught in a dream. The streets are narrow here, the atmosphere crowded. And suddenly she feels crowded, suffocated even.

Pulling into an alley, she stops the car, cutting the ignition and turning to Jack. She can't seem to form the words. They're there, right on the tip of her tongue, but she can't seem to get them out. Instead, she sits in silence, waiting.

"It's over," Jack finally speaks.

"What is?" she questions, confused.

"My marriage. That's what tonight was about. We were signing the divorce papers," he continues, finally glancing up and meeting her eye.

"Oh."

Her vocabulary seems to have abandoned her tonight.

"I'm not in love with her anymore," he explains, the confession seeming too loud in the otherwise silent car.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her heart racing. She doesn't know where this is leading, and is trying desperately not to get hopeful.

"Positive," he answers, his eyes boring into hers, capturing her in their depths.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks, tired of skirting around the issue.

"I think you know," he replies.

She thinks she does know, but long ago came to the realization that nothing is ever certain. At least, not with Jack. Not with them. All doubt vanishes from her mind as he leans forward, pressing his lips to hers.

~*~

Despite the faint chill in the air, Martin decides against taking a cab. He finds himself in Time Square, bright neon lights filling his peripheral vision. He was hoping the place might improve his mood, or at least, take his mind off the evening. So far, he's not having any luck.

He's still not entirely sure what happened. He knows Sam was just using him, even if it was subconscious on her part. And really, he's not surprised by her mistake. Of course she was thinking of Jack. She's always thinking of Jack. He scolds himself for not seeing it sooner.

What does bother him is his own subconscious. Out of all the names he possibly could have spoken, it had to be his. He's not even really all that close with Danny. Sure, they work well together, better then most. And at times, there is this incredible vibe between them that just charges the air with electricity.

He's always passed it off as them just making a good team. Certainly it had nothing to do with any kind of desire on his part. As far as he knows, Danny has no interest in him what so ever. Hell, as far as he knows, Danny is straight. Then again, until a few hours ago, Martin was pretty sure he himself was.

Glancing up, he notices the crowd of people has doubled in size. Checking his watch, he realizes the bar crowd should be stumbling onto the streets right about now. He considers staying, getting swept up in the excitement only bright lights and alcohol can offer. He decides against it, wanting nothing more then solitude.

Ducking down one of the side streets, he moves past the last few throngs of people, all nosily celebrating something that he's never been able to understand. Life maybe. Love certainly. Their merriment only serves to confuse him further.

"Martin!"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Martin sighs, instantly recognizing the voice behind him. This isn't what he needs, not now.

"Danny, hey," he replies, turning around to greet the other man.

He's not sure what to make of the sight before him. Tight worn blue jeans, a button down shirt, left open at the top, it's almost too much to bear. He doesn't associate Danny with casual. Stylish, yes, professional, yes, charismatic, yes, but not this. He quickly finds himself at a loss for words.

"What are you doing here?" Danny asks, obviously not noticing Martin's discomfort.

"Had a date, actually," Martin explains.

Danny nods, glancing around before realizing Martin's alone. A barb dies on his lips as he takes in Martin's distraught expression.

"You alright?" Danny asks.

"Yeah, fine," Martin replies, shrugging off the other man's concern.

"You want to grab some coffee?" Danny asks, not waiting for a reply before walking toward the nearest coffee place. He turns only once, his eyebrows arching as he waits for Martin to follow him.

Not knowing what else to do, Martin takes off after him, wondering what in the world possessed him to agree to this. He thinks maybe he just needs to know. Maybe he just needs to spend time in Danny's company, figure out if there's something there.

In startling contrast to his earlier dinner, the conversation is unwavering, comfortable even. He finds it odd that he can be so completely at ease in Danny's presence. He chalks it up to Danny, the man radiates comfort.

Aside from a couple at the front of the room, they're alone. A waitress absently wipes down tables, her movements slow and bored. This isn't the New York he's come to know. His New York is fast paced, overflowing with people. This reminds him of those road side truck stops he's frequented more times then he can count in his career.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Danny asks, interrupting his musings.

"What do you mean?" Martin asks.

"Well, obviously your date didn't go too well," Danny continues. He's not prying exactly, at least not so far as Martin can tell. He genuinely sounds like a concerned friend.

"Let's just say, we weren't meant to be, other people in the way," Martin explains, exhaustion loosening his tongue.

"People?" Danny presses.

Martin has to smile at that. Of course Danny of all people would pick up on that. He is quite possibly the most perceptive person Martin has ever known.

"Yeah, people. But trust me, you don't want to know," he replies.

Danny nods, recognizing Martin's reluctance to continue the conversation. Instead he rises, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fist full of ones. He tosses them onto the table, easily covered the four coffee's they've had between them. He shrugs off Martin's offer of money.

"How are you getting home?" Danny asks once they're outside, the streets completely deserted now.

"Walking I guess. Maybe a cab," Martin replies, watching as a police car speeds by, rushing off to some unknown crime.

"Come on, I'll give you a lift," Danny interjects, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Martin nods, following Danny away from Time Square towards a non descript parking garage. He's only slightly surprised when Danny opens the door for him but still manages to smile at the gesture.

He gives directions, leaning back and closing his eyes throughout the duration of the ride. He didn't realize until now just how tired he was. The sun will be rising soon, he can't remember the last time he'd seen the sunrise from this end.

Danny pulls to a stop in front of his brownstone, cutting the engine. He turns, a mischievous smile appearing on his lips.

"You know, just cause it didn't work out with this guy, doesn't mean it won't work out with the one that got in the way," Danny states.

He doesn't have time to register the comment before Danny leans forward, pressing his lips to Martin's.

~*~

Vivian's the first to arrive, she usually is. She likes coming in early, the office is quiet, peaceful even. It gives her a chance to mentally prepare herself for the day ahead. Besides, she'd never say anything, but if Jack shows up first, he makes coffee, and Jack doesn't really know how to make coffee.

Smiling into her mug, she glances at the picture of her son, smiling down at her from his perch on top of her monitor. She keeps it there to remind herself of why she does this, why she comes in every morning. She knows, if she ever lost her son, she'd want a team like theirs looking for him. And that's enough of a reason for her.

The ding of the elevator draws her attention. She glances up, watching as Martin walks down the hall. She immediately notices the large grin plastered on his face. Not something she would have expected. His date with Samantha must have gone well.

She wonders if they actually thought they could keep it a secret. They work with a group of trained investigators, someone was bound to notice their talking. And really, she couldn't help it if she'd overheard their conversation. They really shouldn't have been discussing it by the water cooler.

Voices draw her from her thoughts. Turning her attention back to the elevator, she notices Samantha and Jack exiting together. She notes that Jack hasn't thought to change out of the clothes he wore yesterday. She thinks the least he could of done was re-iron them.

She's still trying to puzzle out why Martin's still grinning, especially since it seems pretty obvious who Sam was with all night. Her question is answered the moment Danny enters the room, his grin matching Martin's in intensity. She doesn't miss the heated gaze shared between the two men.

Smiling to herself, she turns back to her coffee and the days work.


End file.
